


The White Prince and his Aide

by maskofthehero



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Fluff, Gift Fic, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot Collection, not abiding to the stereotype of Schneizel being an abusive partner, one of my motivations was to fix Schneizel's portrayal in fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21802714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maskofthehero/pseuds/maskofthehero
Summary: A collection of Schneizel/Kanon oneshots.
Relationships: Schneizel el Britannia/Kanon Maldini
Comments: 16
Kudos: 40





	The White Prince and his Aide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ruruchii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruruchii/gifts).



> This oneshot collection is a gift to a dear friend, who inspires and motivates me but more importantly is just as crazy about this ship as I am.
> 
> And a shoutout to my friend Andrea for brainstorming with me and helping me come up with ideas for these oneshots (alongside several others which were too dark for me to include.)
> 
> NB that inaccuracy may apply in the third oneshot (the only AU), as I don't know much about the army.

**Bowl of Fruits**

“Welcome, everyone,” Clovis’s voice is an overjoyed melody. The third son sure has too much energy considering it’s only so early in the morning. “To the very first ever art class arranged and conducted by myself, one of Britannia’s most talented artists, if I dare say.

“I sure hope you all can pardon the lack of space. It is a bit of a challenge to position everyone so that no one would find it difficult to capture the piece I chose to have you all draw today and this room isn’t very spacious. I could have easily chosen a wider room but I thought everyone would be more enthusiastic about the class if given the chance to learn while witnessing the teacher’s masterpieces.” Clovis gestures behind him, at the dozens of his paintings, framed in luxurious gold, hung all over the walls.

Clovis’s art room is nowhere near restricted, but it does feel sort of cramped with all these chairs and tables clamped next to each other. After all, there is a seat for most likely all of Clovis’ siblings plus their knights, and some more aristocrats. The seats are arranged in a wide semicircle, the middle of it an empty space where Clovis leisurely walks around while giving the pre-class lecture as well as a tall, circular table where the certain object everyone will begin to draw is placed. At the moment, no one can make out the object itself, as it is obscured by a long blue cloth. But soon enough they will know (that’s _if_ Clovis ever comes to finishing this lecture.)

“The way the stars have aligned has predestined me to be born with the wondrous talent of art. At first I had thought it was the simple, average skills anyone could easily develop, but came to know otherwise as time passed, and discovered that I have a surplus of talent. Consequently, I only thought it the right thing to do to share my talent with everyone.”

Well, if Clovis really wants to _share_ what he has in _surplus_ , he can do something about that ego.

Surely, the third prince’s ego would suffice around twice as many people in the world with low self-esteem if shared.

“Well now, the time has come to reveal to you all the piece that you shall be recreating on those white papers in front of you,” Clovis walks right up to the tall table and swiftly removes the blue cloth to reveal the object with a much too dramatic _Ta-Da_. “A bowl of fruits!

“I’m fairly certain not many of you are surprised with my choice. After all, a bowl of fruits is typically one of the first things artists-to-be practice drawing. But we are not doing this to abide to the noted stereotype. What many people fail to notice thoroughly is how perfect a practice drawing a bowl of fruits is. Fruits come in numerous shapes and textures, perfect for beginner artists to try and capture. You have the smooth banana, the intricate pineapple, the dotted—”

“Just quit _yapping_ and we’ll start _drawing_.” someone yells and while Kanon can’t see who said that due to his vision being obscured by the numerous chairs and tables, he is sure that it is the eleventh prince.

Clovis rolls his eyes. “Very well. You may begin.”

The sound of a pencil being picked up might not be very audible, but the sound of dozens of people doing so all at once is very loud that it actually catches Kanon by surprise. He wasn’t expecting everyone to be this eager to draw.

It is a legitimate possibility that the gift of drawing runs in the royal family. Its members do share many talents, such as dancing or playing the piano. But the knights seem to share equal enthusiasm. Now that Kanon realises, he is most probably the only person in the room who hasn’t started drawing. He slowly picks up his pencil and directs his attention at the bowl of fruits. Well, he tries to do so, but he isn’t very successful. His mind is preoccupied, but he doesn’t know by what. It’s like his ears are betaking a melody he’s heard several times but still unable to recognise. The aide moves his blue eyes around the room, scanning who are artists-to-be and who are just attending for the fun of it. His eyes jump from aristocrat to knight to royalty, but only cease moving once they land on a certain person.

The second prince.

Kanon’s prince.

If there’s anything Kanon greatly admires about Schneizel, it’s the prince’s incredible sophistication, and the way he deeply focuses on tasks at hand. Whether it be paperwork or a mere chess match with one of his brothers, Schneizel’s concentration is as strong as a metal kept in open, humid air without showing a hint of rusting.

Even right now, in a meagre art class, Schneizel is undoubtedly immersed in drawing the bowl of fruits. Something like this is not hard for Kanon to notice; he does spend the majority of time if not all of it in Schneizel’s office and watching the prince work is not something his day would be complete if not observed for several hours. Kanon is entirely privileged to being present when Schneizel is working which is not something he would have, when he first started working for the second son, thought he would be delighted about. But time flies and not everything remains the same, and now, quite frankly, Kanon tremendously enjoys watching his prince work. The image of Schneizel focusing on his work, those narrowed periwinkle eyes with a seam of calculations hidden behind them, is one that has been planted into Kanon’s mind, and will most likely be kept there simply because it’s an image he never gets tired of beholding.

Soon enough Kanon’s hands are moving with a mind of their own, and begin tracing the outline of Schneizel’s handsome features: his narrowed eyes, his wavy blond hair, his sharp jawline. Although Kanon can’t see Schneizel easily from this seat, he is at least appreciative of the fact that no one can see what he’s actually drawing. The earl’s seat is where the semicircle meets with the wall, and, to make him able to see the bowl of fruits clearly, it is tilted at a wide angle. This way, no anyone sitting near Kanon would be able to see what he is drawing unless they turn their neck at a rather wrenching angle.

Still, Kanon’s nerves are jittering at the possibility that anyone can see what he is drawing if they get up and stroll around. It’s a very minor possibility; there’s no _reason_ for anyone to simply get up and stroll around and from what Kanon sees, everyone seems to be enjoying this class too much to pause. Instead of nervously glancing at his side, Kanon decides to go back to focusing on Schneizel and once he does so, he immediately feels all agitation rush out of his being like water out of an open faucet. 

Every smidgen of Kanon’s attention is devoted to capture Schneizel as perfectly as he can, without messing any of his striking features. He swishes the tip of his pencil on the paper, in lines and curves and all it takes to shape the dazzling features of his prince’s face. Though it is quite challenging to try and get all of Schneizel’s features accurately at this distance and angle. The worst of it is that Kanon can’t see the flaxen waves of Schneizel’s hair very clearly. He’s lost count of how many times he’s drawn the frill falling over Schneizel’s forehead, erased it, and then drew it again. Round and round the circle goes and Kanon isn’t even sure whether it will end at this point. While it is true that the earl is not a professional artist, or even an intermediate one at that, he just can’t bring himself to drawing even the smallest of details unless they are a perfect match. He is well aware that it is nearly impossible for someone at his level to draw something free of flaws but he will not allow himself to make even a little blunder when drawing the perfection that is the second prince.

As ill luck would have it, Kanon is not even halfway through finishing his drawing by the time the class ends. Though, truth be told, this is probably as far as he could go considering the circumstances weren’t exactly in his favour. His drawing is derived from details and the long distance between him and Schneizel is to take them blame. He wouldn’t even call it a drawing, rather a sketch. But there isn’t much Kanon can do other than leave with everyone else. It isn’t long after the class in dismissed that everyone has left spare a few princes and princesses, who stand by the doorway chatting for a small while before leaving. With no one in the room, Kanon can finally step away from his drawing without fear that anyone would take a look at it. But he doesn’t do that before he slowly runs the tips of his fingers over it, a deep frown captivating his lips as he stares at his unfinished work in disappointment. Kanon neatly arranges the several pencils and erasers that were provided to him, and it is just when he takes a few steps away from his seat that he hears a voice behind him.

“You were supposed to be drawing the bowl of fruits, Kanon.”

Kanon’s stomach falls to the floor. The earl hastily turns around to be greeted by none other than the second prince.

“Y-Your Highness,” Kanon starts anxiously, feeling butterflies flutter around his stomach. “I-I can explain.” What _is_ there to explain?

Kanon tries to reach for the drawing as if Schneizel hasn’t seen it already. As it is the prince is much closer to the drawing than he is, and so, all Kanon can do is stand behind in silence, feeling his cheeks get warm.

Schneizel leans closer to the drawing, periwinkle eyes heavily scrutinising it, before he withdraws and shakes his head slowly. “I can’t believe this, Kanon.”

“I…” Kanon tries to speak but his words get lost before he even finds them.

What should he even say?

Should he just apologise?

Or should he stay quiet?

All the blue-eyed man does is lower his head in discomfiture. The air is thick with silence and at this point Kanon isn’t entirely sure if his shaky breaths are entirely inaudible.

“You got my nose wrong.”

Kanon’s head jerks up with surprise. He barely stifles a yelp as he looks at the prince in front of him in uttermost confusion.

Schneizel returns some of the confusion. “I mean, it doesn’t _actually_ look like that, does it?” he slowly and carefully runs the tips of his gloved fingers across the bridge of his nose as he eyes the drawing.

With strides that are a little too heavy, Kanon steps closer to his drawing to examine it as well. He flicks his blues from the drawing to Schneizel a few times before he realises that he has indeed drawn Schneizel’s nose quite inexactly.

The earl can feel his cheeks grow warmer. “Pardon me, Your Highness.” he says in a low, soft voice. “The distance and angle at which we were seated weren’t favourable. It was too difficult for me to capture your features correctly.”

Schneizel strokes his chin in thought for a moment, then points at a chair a small distance from Kanon’s table, where a knight was sitting. “Would this be a better angle?” he asks before seating himself on that very chair.

“Your Highness?” Kanon returns the question with a question, his voice laden with disbelief.

The corners of Schneizel’s lips ascend in a contented smile. “You have created a masterpiece, Kanon. I can’t have you leave it unfinished.”

“So you’re not… angry?”

The prince tilts his head. “That you’ve put your time and effort into such a beautiful illustration of me? I have no reason to be.”

Kanon just barely manages to hold back a deep sigh of relief.

Schneizel is not angry.

And he wants Kanon to continue.

Not that Kanon wouldn’t have done so if he truly wanted to, but he does have to obey his prince, so continue it he shall.

He picks up his pencil again and proceeds to draw. His hands are shaky in the beginning, making some strokes deviate a bit to the side and he erases them and redraws them. For some unexplainable reason, Kanon seems to be even more nervous now that Schneizel is apprised of what he is doing. A small part of him wishes he was still drawing in secret. Though, Schneizel did call Kanon’s simple sketch a masterpiece; it is evident that his prince believes in him, so why can’t Kanon believe in himself?

As Kanon carefully eyes Schneizel, the two males’ eyes lock together, and Kanon’s confidence is restored. The earl smiles to himself. There’s something other than confidence Schneizel’s gaze shot through him, and while Kanon can’t figure out what it is he knows he thoroughly enjoys it.

Kanon steps away from his drawing to examine it. Consequently, he concludes that he hasn’t made much progress. It’s not that he can’t see clearly. It’s not that his hands are shaky.

It’s something else.

And it is with a long stare from the drawing to Schneizel that Kanon figures it out.

Schneizel’s pose is not the same as it was during the class.

It’s not that different but there is enough dissimilarity to disturb the flow of Kanon’s drawing.

“Is something wrong?” Schneizel asks.

“Could you… lower your head a bit?” Kanon requests, squinting at the drawing.

Schneizel does as he is requested, but now his head is lower than it was before.

Kanon shakes his head. “Nevermind. Try moving it higher.”

Schneizel complies again, but now his head is higher than it was before.

“Let me just,” Kanon walks towards Schneizel before he could stop himself. His arms are outstretched but it just when his hands are a few inches from his prince’s face that Kanon freezes, realising just what he is doing. “I-I apologise, Your Highness,” he says a bit awkwardly, slowly withdrawing his hands. “I… I wasn’t thinking— ”

Before Kanon could finish his sentence, Schneizel took hold of both of his wrists and pulled them closer so that his fingers made contact with the lilac-eyed prince’s face.

“It’s alright,” Schneizel’s voice is as light as a feather. “Do as you desire.”

Even after being reassured, Kanon stays frozen for a second. Then, with another locking of his blues with lilacs, his hands move again. He compulsively runs his fingers down the side of Schneizel’s face, washed away in elation at being so close to his prince, before he remembers he’s doing this for a reason. Kanon closes his eyes for a moment, trying to recall exactly what Schneizel had looked like in the class. Thankfully, the image is still fresh and clear in his Kanon’s mind. When he opens his eyes again, he cups the prince’s face with one hand as the other gently rakes through blond hair, restoring the waves it was held in. He also remembers the few locks that were tucked behind Schneizel’s ears. These have now moved out of place, so Kanon tucks them again with a swift brush of his finger. To conclude it all, the aide takes hold of his prince’s chin and lifts it at just the right angle for him to resume drawing without any difficulties. Though, for some reason, even now that he’s done with fixing Schneizel’s pose, Kanon’s hands are still glued to the royalty’s face. He seems to have lost the ability to control them. They refuse to move away. Kanon stays still, his heartbeat quickening, waiting for the moment that Schneizel orders him to move away. But the prince does something else that catches Kanon by surprise, and it is sheer physics that keeps Kanon’s being intact when Schneizel softly grabs his hand and moves it to his lips, where he gently presses a kiss onto the earl’s palm.

With warmth in his heart and a smile on his lips, Kanon finally steps away from Schneizel and goes back to finishing his masterpiece.

* * *

**A Dance Under the Moonlight**

Kanon was never really fond of royal balls.

He wishes it wasn’t mandatory for him to attend them. Dozens of people chatting and drinking with classical music playing in the background is nowhere near being a dull atmosphere, but it isn’t how Kanon would like to spend his night.

Tonight, however, seems to be a different case.

For tonight is the first time ever he’s been asked to a dance this many times.

The earl is almost certain that he hasn’t gone a full ten minutes without having a young lady in a sumptuous gown elegantly stride over to him and request a dance with him tonight. Sure, in previous cases, he’s been asked once or twice, so it isn’t something out of the ordinary for him. After all, this is how the royal ball works. Everyone loiters around until a certain someone catches their eye. Then, within the timespan of a few minutes the two of them are merrily dancing together on the dancefloor. But what _is_ abnormal is that Kanon has been asked for a dance _more_ than once or twice tonight. He’s lost count of how many times he’s firmly apologised or humbly refused through smiling lips, when only the finest of women take interest in him.

It’s not that Kanon has anything against anyone here. The majority of them are people he’s familiar with. Not only that, but also the fact that all these royalties and aristocrats have been raised with nothing but exceptional etiquette. As a matter of fact, Kanon would be very honoured to have a dance with these young ladies, and he hopes his continuous withholding does not imply otherwise. But the only hindrance to him doing what he, as well as these ladies, desire is that he just doesn’t know how to dance.

And as degrading as it is, it is nothing but the truth.

Dancing is an inescapable obligation for members of the upper crust. However, Kanon just so happens to be one of negligible to part with such predestine. The reason for so remains a mystery. Sure, the blue-eyed man was never taught any form of dance as a child, but there are dancing sessions provided for such cases. Kanon knows several titled people who had previously been commoners, and had gotten affiliations with royals through marriage or knighthood. One of the ingredients in the recipe of transforming these commoners into titled people is teaching them formal dances. Kanon was never a commoner to begin with, so that must have been where the misconception that is him knowing how to dance originated.

With all that said, Kanon can only watch other people dance as he stands as farthest as he can from peering eyes. At first, he had done the mistake of standing too close to the dancefloor, where he was easily noticed by everyone walking by. It was when he decided that he can no longer withstand constantly rejecting everyone asking him to accompany them to the dancefloor that the aide decided to stand in the corner farthest from the dancefloor, where he would be obscured. His sapphires are slowly scanning the dancefloor, recognising the merry dancers. He can see the second and third princesses dancing with their knights, and the eleventh prince dancing with his younger sister. As he eyes the lively pairs of dancers, Kanon must admit he feels jealous, because he might never get to experience the joy of dancing. Everyone on the dancefloor is nothing but smiles as they sway on the dancfloor, long capes and skirts swishing with them. Even the sternest of royalties and knights, who never dared to crack a smile in the past, now have their teeth showing in wide smiles, and Kanon can ever hear many laughs over the classical music.

Kanon’s tolerance for having to stand like a statue and only watch instead of take part in dancing is worn out roughly halfway through the royal ball. Before he even realises that he’s had enough the earl is already making his way to the exit. It isn’t hard for him to leave with the very little attention that is on him.

The blue-eyed man walks through several halls until he finds his way out of the palace itself and soon finds himself in one of the palace’s many gardens. He fills his lungs with the much needed fresh air, letting his ears betake the soothing sound of the continuous splashing of the fountain in front of him. Kanon’s blues dart up to the starry sky. If there is anything the aide admires, it’s the natural lights he gets to witness in the palace. The view of the dark sky dotted with shining stars is simply stunning. Adding the bright full moon makes it an image Kanon is certain he will never get tired of seeing.

“Why did you leave?” says a voice behind Kanon.

Kanon abruptly turns around to face his guest and is not surprised to be greeted by Schneizel. He did recognise the prince’s voice.

Schneizel’s figure is somewhat silhouetted, due to his sable suit mixing well with the dark night. He doesn’t usually wear dark colours but tonight he seems to be stepping out of his familiar zone, for all three pieces of his suit are black. The only hint of colour in his attire is the white buttonup and lilac necktie that matches his eyes, now that Kanon notices. Kanon himself decided to go for a different colour scheme tonight, his suit being a dark blue.

“Your Highness…” Kanon says slowly, hoping he had taken a moment to actually think of what to say. “I… I was just…” he slowly eyes Schneizel. The prince seems patient, not at all bothered by Kanon’s rather long response time. “I just… I needed some fresh air.” he finally completes his answer, lowering his head to break the eye contact he couldn’t keep up even if his life depended on it.

“Is that all?” Schneizel nonchalantly questions.

Kanon quickly lifts his head to eye Schneizel again. He can very clearly see the concern on the royalty’s face.

The aide looks away again. “Well… I…” his thoughts sure are taking their sweet time forming into something coherent.

Kanon doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to remain silent but he also doesn’t want to tell lies. He wouldn’t have been in such a tight spot had he known Schneizel might actually leave the royal ball and come after him.

“I’ve had my eye on you all night, Kanon.” Schneizel says, shaking Kanon from his nonexistent thoughts. “You seemed to be really bothered.”

Kanon is still silent.

“I also noticed that not only did you not ask anyone for a dance, but you also refused every time someone asked you.” Schneizel continues. “May I ask why?”

Kanon swallows hard. He feels a hard lump form in his throat, making him unable to talk.

But, even if he did find his voice, what would Kanon even say?

Would he make something up?

Or, would he actually tell Schneizel the ignominious truth he never dared voice to anyone else?

Kanon never wanted to reveal this secret, but he will all but lie to his prince.

The earl finally lifts his head again, taking a deep breath. “I… don’t know how to dance.” he says.

He carefully scrutinises Schneizel, waiting for what will most definitely be a shocked response with bated breath.

The prince only blinks. “You could have said something.” he says.

“Could I?” Kanon shakes his head. “Is it even okay to not know how to dance?”

“Of course it is. You don’t exactly come out of the womb knowing how to dance. You have to be taught.” Schneizel tips his head to the side in realisation. “Were you never taught?”

Kanon silently shakes his head.

“I can help you with that.”

“You’ll help me?” Kanon asks, unable to keep a little bit of shock from raising his tone and widening his eyes. “You’ll sign me up for those dancing sessions?”

Schneizel shakes his head, letting s small laugh crawl out of his mouth. “I’ll do more than that.” He takes a few strides closer to Kanon, abbreviating the space between them. “I’ll teach you myself.”

“You’ll—you’ll teach me?” Kanon gapes at Schneizel, feeling a jolt shake his entire body.

“Yes, I will,” Schneizel walks even closer to Kanon. He is now so close that his body is almost in contact with Kanon’s. “Right here. Right now.” he takes one of Kanon’s hands and puts it on his shoulder, consequently feeling it grip his shoulder tightly. He then takes hold of Kanon’s other hand, firmly intertwining their fingers together and raising them in the air. Lastly, he moves a hand to his aide’s waist, pulling him closer and reducing the gap between them to nothing.

“Y-Your Highness,” Kanon says, his voice shaking. He is fairly certain that Schneizel can feel his racing heart. It wouldn’t be a challenge as their chests are touching. “Why... Why now?”

“You seem to be very troubled with the conviction that you cannot dance. I will not allow that it goes on any further.”

“But Your Highness,” Kanon’s mouth is open for a moment. How can he not have anything to say? Surely, the earl wouldn’t be looking for an excuse to end this, would he? Not when he can feel Schneizel’s warmth, or when he can inhale the prince’s sweet scent with every breath he takes. Where is this agitation coming from? “We... we... there’s no music...” he murmurs.

“We don’t need music.” Schneizel’s voice is deep and gentle, like a spell that dispels all Kanon’s anxiousness. The prince lifts Kanon’s chin up with the tips of his fingers, right before moving his hand back to Kanon’s waist, where the earl feels is where it belongs. “Just follow my lead.”

Even with those words, Kanon is not prepared as Schneizel starts moving.

Schneizel starts slow and simple, nothing but small steps to the right, left, front and back. Kanon’s grip on Schneizel’s shoulder and hand tighten as if they’re the only thing keeping his being from shattering. Even with such lenient moves Kanon can just barely keep up with Schneizel. Perhaps Kanon shouldn’t even compare himself to Schneizel in the first place. The prince, as well as his brothers and sisters, have been dancing for years. They have taken what others take as a hobby as a form of demanded perfection, something that they wouldn’t be royalty without. But it’s not just this. Schneizel just so happens to be perfect in everything he does. His actions are so pristine to the extent that he even places chess pieces on the very centre of squares on chessboards. Kanon has yet to find his prince do the simplest of things without a hint of inaccuracy. And right now, Schneizel’s dancing is simply magnificent. All his steps are not even a millimetre off, and his footing hasn’t deviated even a little. But it’s not just about the proportion of his steps; it’s also about the way he moves. Schneizel’s dancing is unbelievably smooth, laden with such consistency that it puts the water flowing in the fountain near them to shame. Kanon slowly looks up from the ground to lock his blues with Schneizel’s lilacs, only to again be enchanted by the prince. The aide feels all the heaviness captivating him, crooking his steps and making him tremble, slowly fade away. He feels the whole world fade away. Right now, it’s only him and Schneizel.

But, staring into his prince’s eyes, Kanon can’t have a good grip on reality for long. For Schneizel’s eyes seem to be a different world in themselves, a labyrinth that Kanon very gladly allows himself to get lost into.

He can stare into Schneizel’s eyes till the end of time.

When Kanon gets a hold of reality again, he notices that his steps have become more harmonious, almost of the same elegancy as Schneizel’s. He drops his gaze to stare at the ground, at their feet moving together in perfect sync. When Kanon looks up at Schneizel again, his lips form an elated smile, one that Schneizel immediately returns.

It isn’t after long that Kanon feels himself get a bit weary. Perhaps his threshold for energy drained rather quickly due to this being his first time indulging into a physical activity he’s never done before. But he doesn’t complain, simply because he doesn’t want this to come to an end. He does, however, concede himself completely to Schneizel’s guidance, and rests his head on the prince’s chest. The earl shuts his eyes as his ears take in the marvellous rhythm that is his prince’s heartbeat. He feels the arm around him tighten. The dancing has slowed, but hasn’t completely stopped. And it is just when Kanon thinks that things can’t possibly, by any means in this universe, be more perfect, that Schneizel’s hand travels from his waist to his chin, where it gently lifts the aide’s head, allowing his prince to press a gentle kiss against his lips.

Once their lips detach, Kanon presses his forehead against Schneizel’s, the feeling that is him and Schneizel being the only people in the entire world, with everything else inexistent, never fading away.

* * *

**A Different Place, a Different Time**

Kanon plops down on his chair with a deep sigh.

Granted that there is never a day where the life of a combat surgeon is easy, today happens to be a significantly heavy day.

The incessant war between Britannia and Japan shows no sign of coming to an end. It only continues to grow and become more severe as both sides’ fighting enhances. The Japanese army was in a rather debilitated state when the war had first started. Now its strength has increased by miles, despite the fact that the elapsed time between now and the onset of the war is a mere few years.

In the recent battle, the Japanese army did their utmost on the battlefield, giving the Britannian army a blow they were not expecting. This resulted in roughly a threefold of deaths and injuries, which of course meant a wide increase in Kanon’s working time.

But Kanon is not complaining, and he dares to say he never will. He wants to aid his country, contribute to freeing it from this never-ending war. While it’s true that the most significant help he can give can be through becoming a soldier, the blue-eyed man knew it was out of the question. He has only average physical skills, and he can’t use a gun to save his own life. Not to mention that the violent, bloodthirsty atmosphere of the fighting ground is not one he would survive in. Kanon would not last a full minute on the battlefield.

All this in mind and adding Kanon’s desperation to help his country in any way, whether it be a major or minor role, a military surgeon was the most fitting job for him. He had already had the basics of a surgeon when he first sought this job. All it took was a couple of years of studying under the superior surgeons and he later became one himself. He was well aware it wouldn’t be an easy job, but he was prepared.

Due to the initial weakness of the Japanese army, Kanon’s job was rather meagre, with minor injuries and a low number of deaths. Today, however, was a completely different case: he and his acquaintances had barely managed to tend to the thirty wounded soldiers, and file death reports of another eleven. Moreover, Kanon needed to make a list of medical resources that have become short in supplies due to the numerous treatments today.

Kanon sighs once more as he leans back on his seat, shutting his eyes. He wishes he could rest on the luxury that is his bed, but he is much too tired to walk all the way to his room, situated at an entirely different wing. Maybe resting in his office for a while should restore a bit of his energy.

“Looks like someone has been working a little too hard today.”

Kanon acknowledges Schneizel’s comment with what he intended to be a soft hum but instead came out as a tired groan. He doesn’t bother to open his eyes, even as he hears footsteps nearing him, and then feel Schneizel kneel in front of him.

“I came by your room earlier,” Schneizel says. “I was a bit concerned when I didn’t find you there, but I figured you’d be here.”

“Is there a reason you stopped by?” Kanon asks.

“Can I not stop by simply because I want to?” Schneizel’s smile is practically audible.

Kanon slowly opens his eyes to see that Schneizel is indeed smiling.

“I suppose not,” he says, fighting back a smile.

“Well now that I found you, can we go back to your room?”

“Do we have to?” Kanon half-whines. “I was planning on staying here for a while.”

Schneizel gapes. “Why?”

“I just want to.”

“There’s no way we’re spending the night in... in your _office_.”

A sudden jolt of defence awakens Kanon, dispelling the heaviness from his eyes and straightening his back. “What’s _wrong_ with my office?”

Said office is rather small but entirely adequate to Kanon’s needs. It is mostly brown, the reason being that the specific colour happens to be the colour of the walls and floor and Kanon’s desk, which is situated at the very centre of the room. On the desk are a personal computer and a finished cup of coffee. Covering one of the walls is a wide bookshelf, harbouring dozens of medical and historical books.

“ _Nothing_ is wrong with your office.” Schneizel lifts his palms in surrender. “It’s a lovely office but I happen to have a preference for your room.”

“Well I’m very sorry to dismay your preference but I have not a smidgen of energy to carry my being to my room and therefore I am not getting out of this chair until further notice.” Kanon states as he shuts his eyes again and leans back to rest—

And in the span of a second Schneizel gets up and scoops the blue-eyed man into his arms. _Bridal style._

“Hey!” Kanon screeches, surprised he bears the energy to do so. “Put me down!”

“You said that you’re too tired to walk and now you don’t have to walk. Problem solved.”

“But I don’t _want_ to be carried!”

“You’re lying.”

“Am not!”

“Then why aren’t you resisting?”

For a small, small second, Kanon goes still as he realises that he is indeed not resisting. He hides the sudden humility with a haughty tone.

“It’s because _I’m tired_ ,” he states.

“Of course.” Schneizel doesn’t even try to hide his mockery.

But Kanon doesn’t complain again as Schneizel walks the two of them to his room. Instead, he goes for making himself comfortable in Schneizel’s securing grip, and wraps his arms around the lilac-eyed man’s neck. He even thanks the heavens that it is a long walk from his office to his room, for he immensely enjoys being in Schneizel’s arms.

After a while of walking they finally reach Kanon’s room. Kanon finds himself already missing Schneizel’s touch, his warmth, a mere second after said man gently lays him onto his bed. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to wait for long as Schneizel takes little time to lie next to him. Neither men bothered to turn on the lights; the moonlight seeping from the window is sufficient for them to see the outline of the room, and of course, each other.

Kanon doesn’t take long to bury himself into Schneizel’s arms the moment the latter is next to him. Thankfully, Schneizel has no questions regarding the sudden tenaciousness, and instead wraps his own arms around Kanon in that same shielding grip.

Kanon can’t even tell where this sudden clinginess comes from. He usually prefers to leave a small gap between him and Schneizel when they go to sleep, but tonight he just can’t find the ability to separate himself from Schneizel. He doesn’t think he’s ever held onto the blond this tightly.

All it takes is for Schneizel to loosen his arms, just a little bit, and a shot of panic jostles through Kanon, making his body stiffen and his grip on Schneizel tighten to an extent that is barely possible.

Undoubtedly, Schneizel immediately figures out something is not sitting well with Kanon. Not only can he feel the rose-haired man’s rapid, shaky breaths, but he may also feel his throbbing heartbeat. Schneizel slowly and gently pushes Kanon away to examine him, and even though the latter is reluctant at first, he slowly loosens his grip.

Schneizel’s periwinkles scrutinise Kanon with obvious concern. “Is something the matter?” he asks in a soft voice.

It takes several tries for Kanon to find his voice. “There’s... There’s something I need to tell you...”

“I’m listening.”

Kanon swallows rather violently, unable to find words to say. He suddenly realises that it would have been more accurate of him to say he wants to _ask_ something of Schneizel, rather than tell. He tries taking, slow, steady breaths to tame his flaming nerves but it is futile. He instead focuses on Schneizel’s bright eyes, and that does the trick.

“Do you...” Kanon starts, slowly putting the words together in his mind before saying them. “Do you have to go to the battlefield?”

Kanon was expecting Schneizel to stay quiet for some time, most probably out of shock.

Instead, the male answers in a heartbeat.

“It depends, actually,” he says with totally feigned thoughtfulness. “Do _you_ have to save the lives of soldiers that are on the brink of death?”

Kanon’s lips part. “I-I’m being _serious_!”

“So am I! Do I _have_ to go to the battlefield? Kanon, what’s gotten into you?”

“I-I don’t know!” Kanon exclaims, partially in surrender. “I just... I just...” he lowers his head, breaking the locking of blues and lilacs. He doesn’t think he can speak his mind all while looking Schneizel in the eye.

Schneizel doesn’t lift Kanon’s head again like he usually does when the other male lowers it, typically to stare at the floor. Instead, he moves his hand to Kanon’s, squeezing it hardly.

Although Schneizel’s touch soothes Kanon, it does nothing to stop the replaying of the images over and over again in Kanon’s mind: the badly-injured soldiers, the dead ones, the death reports he had to file.

“S-Sometimes I... I’m witnessing the injured soldiers... the way they just barely survive the battles...” Kanon’s voice is a low murmur, as if he’s speaking to himself rather than the man next to him. “And I... I...”

“You’re afraid I would be amongst them?”

Kanon looks up at Schneizel again, utterly amazed. “Is it that easy to figure out?”

One would not have been able to take a breath in the time Schneizel was silent. It was simply an instant but it has Kanon’s nerves unsettled nonetheless. Schneizel is the definition of quick-witted. He takes but a heartbeat to reply, even if his answer required prior calculations. A mere second of silence is equivalent to an hour of silence when it comes to Schneizel.

“I would not deny the possibility,” Schneizel is speaking slowly. Too slowly. “No matter how inconsiderable it may be, it still lingers.”

Kanon takes a long breath, as if the cool air entering his lungs would tame the fire burning inside him.

“But that doesn’t mean,’ Schneizel continues hurriedly as he notices Kanon’s growing agitation. “That you should occupy your mind with such thoughts.” He eyes Kanon carefully, trying to see if he has said the correct words. “You shouldn’t,” he repeats.

“How can I _not_?” Kanon says in utmost defeat, turning to lie on his back, putting some space between him and Schneizel. “I’m a surgeon, Schneizel. Watching these soldiers die is _part_ of my everyday life. How can I not think about such stuff? How can I not lose my mind when a soldier that happens to resemble you is taken into quarantines, and not faint from relief when I figure out it’s not actually you, only to be haunted by the thought that you are injured but you are not taken into medical care immediately? It’s a huge circle that goes round and round with no end. It’s like, no matter how I look at it, there will always be a reason for me to worry, a reason for me to lose control of myself and panic—”

Kanon is interrupted as Schneizel’s arms are firmly wrapped around him, and he is pulled into a tight, securing embrace that makes it increasingly difficult for those panic-inducing thoughts to prevail. Kanon expels all those troublesome convictions out of his being in one long, deep sigh, as he completely gives in to the comfort Schneizel has wrapped him in. It’s one of the oldest tricks in the book it still works perfectly well with Kanon. Till date, there hasn’t been a single moment where he kept arguing after Schneizel entwines their bodies together. Kanon is always silenced by this contact, this warmth.

“I’m sorry,” Kanon whispers into Schneizel’s ears. “I’m sorry.”

Schneizel tightens his grip on Kanon. “You shouldn’t be thinking about such stuff.” he says softly. “At least not when I’m holding you in my arms.”

Schneizel’s voice tranquilises Kanon even more. Kanon wraps his own arms around the lilac-eyed man’s neck.

Schneizel is right.

Right now, Kanon is in Schneizel’s arms.

And that’s all that matters at the moment.

~

“Knightmare Frames?” Kanon utters the eerie words slowly, turning over his shoulder to eye the man that suddenly burst into the room and proceeded to frantically scream something about the Japanese army.

“They’re state-of-the-art machines, designed specifically for war! They’re humanoid robots made of the strongest and finest of resources available. They have dozens of those and the ability of one robot is equivalent to that of a hundred soldiers!”

“Well we have thousands of soldiers,” a general next to Kanon states. “Send all the troops.”

“We’ve already sent half the troops while the others are preparing but the outcome is horrendous!”

“Then send the tanks as well.” says another general. “Then we’ll see how long those _Knightmare Frames_ will last.”

The panic-stricken man was only able to inhale before another person ran into the room, holding a small device.

“Footage of Knightmare Frames in action has been filmed!”

Everyone gathered around the newly arrived company to stare at the small screen.

The video is quite shaky, and the quality is not at its best. Though it was hard to make it out in the beginning, Kanon spotted the ultra-modern machine. The man was not exaggerating earlier; this machine is truly as powerful as a hundred armed men. It’s firing a gigantic gun, wiping rows after rows of soldiers in the blink of an eye.

Kanon’s heart seems to have stopped working.

His blood is rushing. His nerves are tingling.

There is only one thought immersed in his mind.

One person.

Kanon sprints out of the room in search for Schneizel.

~

Kanon’s feet are restless as they hurriedly carry him through the halls, his ears guiding him, making him run in the direction in which the sounds are getting louder: the generals barking orders, the footsteps of hundreds of men.

Kanon finally finds the room where the soldiers are preparing. He takes little time to spot Schneizel but the blond’s troop gets called on that very moment. He runs as fast as he can towards Schneizel and barely manages to get a hold of his wrist before he rushes with the rest of his troop.

“Don’t go.” Kanon says as Schneizel abruptly turns to face him.

“Kanon,” Schneizel’s lilacs flicker to the door, to the rushing soldiers.

“ _Don’t go_.”

“Kanon I _have_ to go.” Schneizel turns back and tries to run away. Try as he might, there is no escaping Kanon’s steel grip.

Kanon squeezes the other male’s wrist. “You can’t go.”

“Kanon I—”

“No... no no no no no. I’m not _letting_ you go.”

For a small moment, Schneizel is silent, his face twisted with awe. “I must go, Kanon!” he yells as he tries once again to break free from Kanon’s grip but it is futile.

“You haven’t seen what I’ve seen!” Kanon’s voice, much like his entire body, is shaking. “If you get out there there’s not a chance you’ll—”

Kanon can’t finish his sentence before Schneizel takes hold of his head and smashes their lips together in a kiss.

It’s a moment.

Just a moment.

Where Kanon feels like this is a completely different setting; a different place, a different time.

A place at which there aren’t hundreds of men preparing for battle rushing around them.

A time in which Schneizel doesn’t have to leave.

They’re not a military surgeon and an elite soldier.

They’re just...

They’re Kanon and Schneizel.

And that’s it.

But it was just a moment.

A moment that came to an end as quickly as it had come to a beginning.

Schneizel pulls away, mutters a quick apology against Kanon’s lips, then runs away, being one of the very last soldiers to leave.

~

At first, Kanon remained frozen, his legs glued to the ground, no air entering or leaving his lungs. He would have stayed in place like a statue till the end of time if wasn’t for the urgent command for him to go to quarantines given by his superior. Kanon’s body became hollow, an infinite numbness captivating him when he had glanced inside quarantines. There’s never been this number of injured soldiers. Most men are lying on the floor due to the insufficient number of beds. Every single surgeon and those who barely qualify to be ones are present, and even so, not even half the injured soldiers are being tended to. Kanon eyes all the soldiers. Their injuries are quite gruesome. Some can just barely move. Some aren’t even moving.

Kanon can’t see Schneizel.

There’s still time.

Kanon rushes away from quarantines, ignoring the shouts of his name that are called after him.

He runs back to the soldiers’ preparation room. From the looks of it, there seems to be only one troop that is yet to leave for battle. Kanon frantically and desperately scans the room because there has to be an extra uniform lying around somewhere. He takes off his white lab coat before entering, to ensure lack of attention. Once he finds a spare uniform abandoned on the floor, he starts changing into it. It is not a challenge for him to blend in with the rest of the soldiers once he is dressed like them, probably due to the hectic atmosphere. Perhaps if things were more calm and regulated, everyone would surely notice an extra soldier standing behind. Kanon tries to reduce his breathing rate down to a normal level but his efforts are in vain, especially when he’s handed a three foot firearm that’s so heavy he almost stumbled when he held it. He holds it as firmly as he can, hoping his shakiness isn’t detectable, and runs out with the soldiers to a place he’s never been to before.

A place where he is certain he won’t survive.

~

Kanon was always well aware how horrendous a place the battlefield is.

But that didn’t stop his blood from turning into ice in his veins as he actually witnessed it.

The atmosphere is heavy on his senses, with the blaring sounds of fire, the flashing in every corner of his eyes, and the abhorrent stench of blood and ash. It is after a while of running with soldiers and surprisingly unfailing attempts of firing the rifle he is holding that Kanon spots and recognises Schneizel’s troop. He feels the few shreds of hope he bears multiply as he continues his search for Schneizel.

Kanon’s head is unstoppably twisting to the left and right as he searches for his beloved. The clock keeps ticking and Kanon desperately hopes he can find Schneizel before his time runs out.

His legs hurt from running.

His arms hurt from carrying the firearm.

His lungs hurt from breathing the contaminated air.

Kanon falls to his knees.

There’s been no hope from the very moment Schneizel had left.

It was already too late, even from the very beginning.

Kanon feels every last bit of hope he managed to bear this far crumble, become much like the ashes covering the ground beneath him.

And that was when he heard gunshots.

Loud gunshots.

Several gunshots.

He warily turns his head to the source of sound, and feels his heart freeze in place as he sees a long line of soldiers some distance from him.

But most importantly, he sees Schneizel.

 _Schneizel_.

Kanon slowly stands up, with tremendous effort due to being unable to keep his balance from wavering.

He heard the sound of the Knightmare before he saw it.

Kanon’s blues widen as he stands frozen in place, watching as the humungous machine nears the line of soldiers. All soldiers are firing at it but it is futile as the bullets are ricocheting off of the hard metal of the robot’s frame.

The Knightmare prepares to fire at the soldiers, and Kanon’s numbness disappears in a flash.

His body is overwhelmed by the sudden jolts of energy that make him run at full speed to the soldiers.

To one specific soldier.

Kanon was only a second ahead of the machine, and just barely managed to shield Schneizel from the bullets.

With his own body.

One bullet.

Then another.

Then another.

At first there is pain. Unbearable pain. But it takes a few seconds to sooth, and Kanon can feel his body become void of sensitivity. He dedicates every fragment of his energy to wrapping his arms around Schneizel, but it is only a matter of time before they his arms slip away, and both men fall to their knees.

It is when the Knightmare scoots away from them that there is no sound to be heard.

Schneizel is so silent and so still that, for a small, horrific moment Kanon thinks that he might have been shot as well. That was when Schneizel’s arms tightened around Kanon.

“No... Please... _No_...” the blond dreadfully whispers as he buries his head into Kanon’s shoulder.

Kanon is not surprised by the words he hears.

Yes Schneizel hasn’t seen his face and yes Schneizel knows full well that Kanon can’t be in this place right now, but he still _knows_ it’s Kanon he’s holding at the moment. He is _certain_ it’s Kanon. The lilac-eyed man knows every inch of Kanon’s body. Surely, it wouldn’t be a challenge for him to recognise Kanon’s form, his weight.

But it’s not just that.

Is there really anyone else who would gladly take not one, not two, but three bullets for Schneizel?

Said man slowly pulls back, and dreadfully looks up to lock his eyes with Kanon’s. He doesn’t seem to be surprised though his face is tainted with horror.

“I’m sorry...” Kanon croaks. It hurts to talk, but he will endure the pain.

Not even a little bit of fear is dispelled from Schneizel’s face.

Kanon tries for a weak smile. “Say... How about one last kiss... before I depart?”

Schneizel blankly stares at Kanon for a moment and the latter chuckles weakly. He then leans in slowly, and seals his lips with Kanon’s

Again, it’s just a moment where the entire world is washed away.

Where they are in a place that is not a battlefield with hundreds of corpses lying around.

Where they are in a time that is not when Kanon has to leave.

Just the two of them, enjoying a wondrous kiss, without a care in the world.

And maybe a time will come when it would truly be like that.

Where they can _truly_ not give a care to anything other than each other.

Where they won’t have to worry about one of them leaving.

It’s not right now.

But that time will come.

* * *

**My One and Only**

“Yes, sire.”

The words flow out of Kanon’s mouth smoothly, leaving a saccharine taste in his mouth whenever he says them.

He can say them over and over again, until the end of time itself.

For pleasing his prince is what he lives to do.

His prince is his world, and his world is his prince.

Kanon would gladly spend eternity and whatever lies beyond engulfed in this moment. The incandescent sunlight is doing its utmost to cascade the ground, its efforts rendered useless due to the numerous obscuring clouds. Contributing to the chilly weather is gentle wind, breeze after breeze carrying the astonishing aroma of the copious flowers decorating every inch of the garden. Surely, the plants deserve such weather after months of bearing the scorching sun and lack of wind.

Schneizel stands in front of a large bush, ornamented by an alluring cascade of lilac flowers. He slowly examines them and Kanon can’t tell whether the prince is admiring their perfection or scanning for hidden flaws. His eyes, the same shade as the petals, are narrowed in concentration, as they always are. It doesn’t even matter whether Schneizel is doing strenuous paperwork, playing chess against his brother, or examining some flowers, his eyes are ceaselessly narrowed, always scrutinising, always calculating. It’s something Kanon greatly admires.

An unexpectedly strong breeze makes the bush rustle, and one of the flowers, apparently having had a weak attachment with its pedicle, falls to the ground. Schneizel’s gaze drops to the fallen flower while Kanon kneels to take it in his hands, doing so quickly before the wind can carry it away.

It’s nearly impossible to tell that the flower was once attached. The flowers on the bush are simply uncountable. They quickly cover up for the loss of the unlucky flower it’s almost like it had never fallen, never been _attached_ in the first place. Nevertheless, Kanon finds himself strangely dejected. He eyes the flower in his hand with sorrow, sorrow that even its _death_ goes by unnoticed. He closes his fist around the flower.

Schneizel covers Kanon’s hand with his own. Kanon has always disrelished the Britannian custom of wearing gloves. He longs for his prince’s touch, the warmth and tenderness of his skin, only to be greeted by a cool, inanimate cloth every time their hands are brought together. But Kanon doesn’t have time to be displeased about it as Schneizel squeezes his hand, shortly before opening it, and Kanon allows him to.

“It can’t be helped,” the prince says as he and Kanon watch the desolated flower fly with the wind.

“Don’t you think it’s sad?” Kanon asks, earning a thoughtful, perhaps intrigued, look from Schneizel. “These flowers falling to their deaths, going unnoticed.”

“It may promote a sense of sorrow,” Schneizel offers, tipping his head to the side. “But if they are indeed unnoticed, we wouldn’t be discussing this right now, would we?”

“Perhaps not. But... people coming and going... they wouldn’t even spare a thought to them.”

“That’s what’s funny about this whole thing. And I believe it applies to humans as well. Sometimes you don’t _want_ to be noticed by _everyone_. The attention of a mere one person would suffice.”

Kanon finds himself squeezing Schneizel’s hand, cherishing that it is still in his grip. “You think so?”

“I know so. In fact, it works the opposite way as well. You can have the attention of countless people, but it wouldn’t satisfy you unless you have the attention of that one person.”

“Cannier words have never been spoken, my prince. Though I am not one bit surprised; no words have left your mouth if sagacious in all ways, having the power to move mountains and turn tides.”

“Kanon, you need not compliment me on such a small matter.”

“I am merely speaking the truth, my prince,” Kanon says and his heart practically flies out of his chest when Schneizel’s hand lets go of his and moves up to his face, fingers gently stroking his jawline. The aide wishes time would halt, leaving this very moment ever stretching, boundless.

But alas, just like it had a beginning, it also had an end.

Schneizel’s hand falls to his side. Even though he hides it like he always does, the hint of unease springing in him is detected by Kanon. He’s been by his prince’s side for so long, _too_ long, for such things to be left undiscovered. Schneizel might try to hide them behind those walls but that won’t work, simply because Kanon has already broken those walls down.

The prince clears his throat. “I will be attending to some unofficial business tonight, nothing you should be concerned of. I trust you’ll be able to file off the report concerning the recent addition of areas?”

“Yes, sire.” Kanon doesn’t take long to reply. “You can consider it done already.” He lets a moment linger between them, allowing his ears to take in Schneizel’s hummed satisfaction before he continues. “However, sire. This... _unofficial_ _business_ you will be attending to tonight—”

A lift of Schneizel’s palm interrupts Kanon before he is able to finish. “It’s really not something you should occupy yourself with.”

“I am aware of that, sire. It’s just that you seemed to be ill at ease at the mention of it.”

Schneizel smiles. “Was I now?”

“Still are, quite frankly.” Kanon reaches for Schneizel’s hand and gently takes hold of it. “You must be aware, my prince, that I can easily tell when something brings about your agitation.”

Schneizel laughs this time, clasping Kanon’s hand with both of his hands. “Your concern is very much appreciated, Kanon. But really, it’s not that big of a deal. In fact I will be more at ease knowing you aren’t concerned about it.”

Kanon takes a deep breath, trying to dispel his worries. He trusts his prince.

“Yes, sire.”

~

Schneizel hates that he’s come of age.

As if being a prince wasn’t enough of burden, now he has to deal with this.

 _This_ being something that was thrown at him so abruptly, something he was totally unprepared for.

One day he was merrily leading a normal life, or perhaps it was not normal and he’d gotten used to it. The next day he is confronted by his father who tells him that he is to get married. But the greatest disturbance to Schneizel was the fact that all the planning had been made without prior confirmation of his consent. Without his father asking Schneizel if he had approved or not, he had already planned meetings with women from several kingdoms, several countries.

Now there are plenty of reasons for Schneizel to detest himself. The way he is simply wasting these ladies’ precious time. The fact that he makes promises he knows he won’t keep. All the times he promised he will consider them and their proposals when the thoughts don’t even cross his mind unless and until he is face to face with them.

Another day.

Another princess.

Another meaningless smile and play of fake laughs.

Schneizel just wants it to end.

It’s wrong for him to play with these ladies’ feelings, wrong for him to pretend to be interested and amused with everything they say. He doesn’t have anything against them, but he still can’t picture himself _marrying_ them. There’s no point of him making a commitment if he’s not going to be honest about it.

He just hopes that if he holds out long enough, a time will come where his father would change his mind.

For now, however, he will have to play along.

~

Kanon can’t find it in himself to stop worrying about Schneizel.

Even though his prince told him time and time that he shouldn’t be concerned, it’s still a great challenge for him to think about anything else.

The forced smile. The forced laugh. Schneizel is clearly uncomfortable with whatever he has to deal with.

Kanon inhales sharply.

Schneizel said it wasn’t a big deal.

Schneizel said Kanon shouldn’t be worried about it.

And Kanon _believes_ him.

Writing the report was an appreciated distraction. Kanon somewhat regrets not taking more time with the task, for now, without anything to do, his thoughts are running all over his head. The papers are held firmly in his hand as he walks to Schneizel’s office. He hopes the prince will be there. It is highly likely, since it is well into the night and _unofficial business_ shouldn’t be this time-consuming. Kanon walks down hall after hall but his ears take in something that halts his steps.

Right behind him is a group of aristocrats, chatting normally but Kanon catches a few words that make his heart cease beating for a moment.

“—Prince Schneizel.”

“His Highness indeed must be enervated from all this meetings. This is, what, the fourth one?”

“I believe so. Does he really need this many meetings to make a choice?”

“Though it is understandable that he is having a hard time deciding. He _is_ being presented none other than the finest of ladies.”

“Precisely. The world was turned upside down with the declaration of His Highness looking for a woman to pledge his troth to. Suffice to say, women are now _lining up_ for the part. Though only one will be lucky enough to win His Highness’ hand in marriage.”

Kanon doesn’t know if he’s heard correctly.

He _hopes_ he hasn’t heard correctly.

He puts a hand to his chest. His heart is beating so quickly, so strongly, that it is a miracle his ribs are still intact.

All while convincing himself that what he heard is not true, he sets out to search for Schneizel.

~

The late hours of night find Schneizel strolling around one of the palace’s gardens, accompanied by a beautiful princess of one of the Eastern countries. So far into this walk the princess has been silent and Schneizel is grateful, for he doesn’t even have the energy to fake laugh or speak falsely saccharine words anymore.

“I know it’s hard for you, Your Highness.”

Schneizel abruptly stops, turning to face the princess. She greets his look of confusion with a warm smile.

“This really isn’t something to be taken lightly. So far people have been taunting you for not making a decision but I completely understand it. You don’t want to choose in haste. You want to give yourself time to decide.”

Schneizel is silent for a moment, perhaps in shock. “You can see right through me,” he tries for a smile, surprised that his words are somewhat truthful.

“Of course, Your Highness. The last thing I want is to be yet another burden thrown on you.”

Schneizel’s smile widens, becomes less forceful. “I thank you warmly for these words, as well as this fine evening. I have greatly enjoyed myself.”

“So as I, Your Highness.”

Schneizel reaches for the princess’ hands and takes hold of them. “After this evening, I can say that making a decision has become less difficult.” he says.

He _lies_.

The same sweet lie he’s said over and over again, to every lady he’s met.

The princess was about to reply, but a flicker of her honey eyes behind Schneizel makes her eyebrows quirk in surprise. “You must be Earl Kanon Maldini, His Highness’s aide de camp.”

Schneizel feels his stomach tie into knots. He takes an agonising moment to still his racing heart before turning around.

It is _indeed_ Earl Kanon Maldini, his aide de camp standing before him.

Also the last person Schneizel wanted to see him like this.

For a small second, Kanon is horrified. His blue orbs are wide, and his jaw is practically on the floor.

But that second is quickly washed away as Kanon composes himself again with a wide, though obviously straining smile.

“Pardon me,” the earl says as he takes a few steps forward. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Oh you’re not interrupting at all.” the princess says, and Schneizel is thankful she is able to talk, for _he_ wouldn’t be able to utter a single word right now to save his life. “I was just about to leave, in any case.” she turns her attention back to Schneizel, even though the prince’s attention is still on Kanon. “I am truly delighted that making a decision has become easier for you, Your Highness,” it is only after she speaks those words that Schneizel finally unglues his lilacs from Kanon and turns to look at her. “But I must let you know that being presented a mere opportunity to be your betrothed is an honour in itself. I thank you again for the evening. I bid you goodnight.” She says before walking away and her guard is a distance away, ready to retrieve her.

It is after a pair of footsteps fade away that Schneizel and Kanon are left in an asphyxiating silence.

When Schneizel dares to look at Kanon, the earl’s gaze is fixed on the floor.

Schneizel wants to talk, to _explain_.

But he can’t, for everything he is worth, find any words to say.

Kanon clears his throat, and the abrupt addition of sound to the silent atmosphere almost startles Schneizel.

“I’ve finalised the report for you,” Kanon says, his voice just a bit louder than a whisper.

Those were the last words Schneizel expected to hear.

“You might want to proofread it... just in case...”

Schneizel shakes his head in disbelief. “Kanon,” he says, and calling his aide’s name makes a lump form in his throat. He feels as if he doesn’t even have the _right_ to call Kanon’s name.

Kanon stays silent. He only extends his arm, offering Schneizel the papers.

Schneizel stays frozen. He might just need an entire lifetime to fathom this situation. But when it becomes apparent that Kanon won’t be keeping those papers that Schneizel finally takes them, and Kanon immediately lets his hand fall away.

“Now that there’s nothing for me to do...” Kanon is quiet for a moment. “I... must excuse myself.”

Schneizel doesn’t even have time to inhale before Kanon walks away.

~

It doesn’t even matter how much effort Kanon puts in trying to get away from Schneizel.

He might as well be on the other side of the world and the prince would still be on his mind, occupying his every thought.

But perhaps it isn’t a matter of effort; maybe Kanon doesn’t _want_ to get away from Schneizel.

Maybe he doesn’t _want_ to think about anything other than Schneizel.

Why else would he be here, in any case?

This is an entire palace with dozens of gardens, an area that is practically limitless, but Kanon is _here_ out of all places.

It is rather peculiar how just some hours ago, in this very place, Kanon was on top of the world, his heart soaring in the sky, with his prince by his side. One blissful moment after another, and Kanon never wanted anything else.

Now Kanon feels nothing but melancholy as he slowly runs the tips of his fingers over the lilac petals, the gentleness he feels reminding him of his prince’s fingers on his jawline. His chest tightens at the thought of what he has lost. As if on cue, a flower falls to the ground, and Kanon kneels to take it into his hand. Unlike the previous time, however, he doesn’t let go of it, and keeps it held firmly in his hand.

He doesn’t bother to turn around when he hears footsteps behind him.

Doesn’t bother to look up at Schneizel when the prince stands right next to him.

He fidgets with the flower in his hand. He’s always admired these flowers. He found the petals being the same colour as Schneizel’s orbs something beautiful. It’s kind of ironic though, that Kanon is eyeing the flower when Schneizel’s lively eyes are right next to him. Maybe Kanon just can’t bring himself to meet the intensity that accompanies Schneizel’s eyes.

He is tempted to meet the prince’s gaze, but he knows he won’t be able handle it.

It takes tremendous effort for him to keep his gaze away. It’s almost like there’s some sort of magnetic force between his eyes and Schneizel’s, an attraction Kanon can’t resist, but tries to anyway. His efforts are rendered powerless when Schneizel’s hand covers his, when the flower is clasped between their palms.

“Kanon,”

At the beckon of his name, Kanon can’t help but look up‒ he feels the magnetic force strengthen until he can’t hold out against it.

“You know there’s no need for you to be upset,” Schneizel says.

It is rather challenging for Kanon to push the words out of his throat. “I know that. I know this has nothing to do with me and I know I should not have my personal feelings unrestrained but...” Kanon’s tongue fails him. He stays silent until Schneizel gives him strength to speak with a squeeze of his hand. “I was aware this would happen at some point,” he is able to talk but looks away. “Nonetheless I... I wasn’t prepared,” he shakes his head. “The thought of you being with someone else like this...”

 _It drives me crazy_ , Kanon was tempted to say.

“Kanon it’s not what you think it is,” Schneizel is quick to say. He gives Kanon’s hand another squeeze, though if he’s trying to get the earl to look at him again, it’s not working. “I’m practically being forced to do this. If I had a choice I’d abandon this whole thing. But that’s the thing: I don’t _have_ a choice. It’s an obligation as a member of the lineage. I’m doing this as no more than a royal duty, but also as a human being. I don’t want to hurt these people’s feelings, that’s why I’m going along with it. But aside from that... they really don’t mean much to me.”

“Then what are you going to do?” Kanon sighs in desperation. “There’s no avoiding the inevitable.”

“You’re right. Maybe I can’t avoid this, and maybe I’m not sure about anything happening now or in the foreseeable future. But there is one thing I’m sure of,” at the last words, Schneizel hooks an arm around Kanon and pulls him closer. “I’ve never felt the same way with anyone as I’ve felt with you.”

Kanon finally locks his eyes with Schneizel’s. The sudden being able to meet those intense lilacs was mostly out of shock.

“And I will never feel this way with anyone else. Every moment we spend together has me overwhelmed with elation. It’s a feeling I can only achieve when I’m with you. And I will do anything to hold onto it, to hold onto _you_. Father wanting me to get married is an arduous hardship, and it might just be the first of many to come but I will keep holding on, and I don’t care what it takes to do so. I’m not letting go of what we have, and I’m definitely not letting go of you, Kanon.”

Kanon gives up on finding words to say before he even searches for any. He moves his hand to Schneizel’s chest, feeling the prince’s heartbeat against his fingertips. He keeps his eyes locked with Schneizel’s as if those lilacs are his only tether to the Earth. At this point he’s not so sure his racing heart is inaudible.

Then Schneizel pulls Kanon even closer, sealing the gap between them. It isn’t long before Kanon feels his prince’s lips brushing against his own. He wraps his arms around Schneizel’s neck, wondering if it could even get better than this.

Schneizel is right.

They will face more than one or two hardships along the way.

But this is a path they’re walking together, and that’s the reason they’re getting through.

* * *

**After Midnight**

Kanon doesn’t know when things got this far.

He doesn’t know _how_ things got this far.

But, does the initiation really matter now that they’ve reached this point? Does how he and Schneizel first started digging matter now that they are in this deep?

Kanon never bothered to dwell about it. He’s learned that when life gives you a good thing, you are to only accept it and be thankful for it, without wasting time to question the reasons behind it. And that was the case since that one day he and Schneizel decided to push the boundaries a bit farther. But perhaps it wasn’t exactly like that; maybe the boundaries were never there in the first place. Maybe it was a limitless area but the prince and his aide were constricted by what they _allowed_ themselves to explore.

And that was the night they finally allowed themselves to explore, nothing holding them back.

Kanon had many, many questions but buried them. He was afraid that anything he would say might destroy what he had been yearning for all those years. He was afraid that addition of logistics might stir them back to their formal, assumedly ‘right tracked’, relationship. So for all the love he cherished, Kanon shut his mouth.

And he just wonders why all the questions are deluging his mind now. They’ve been locked up for so long and now they are finally set free. But why now of all times? Why now, when it’s past midnight, when he’s serenely nestled in Schneizel’s arms? The prince has long gone asleep, but Kanon can’t shut his eyes because of all the _whats_ and _hows_ and _whys_ spinning around in his head.

That day had been quite a long one. Kanon and Schneizel had found themselves free of duty very late in the night. It also happened to be one of the rare occasions on which Kanon accompanied Schneizel all the way to his room and maybe that was the first conviction that triggered that chain reaction. Kanon would always bid Schneizel goodnight just at the door to his room, but that particular night he let himself in, and Schneizel allowed him to. Even after he wished Schneizel pleasant sleep he stayed. Even after Schneizel took off his top coat he stayed. He stayed, not even knowing what he was waiting for. He was standing so close, _so close_ to Schneizel. So close that his shaky breaths were mixing with Schneizel’s perfectly composed ones. They just stood, the temperature growing hotter, their heartbeats growing stronger and louder.

Then all the chords snapped when Schneizel took hold of Kanon’s jaw and pulled him into a kiss.

Kanon was momentarily numb. But then, at the back of his head, a voice screamed: _This is it._

_This is what I’ve been waiting for._

_This is what I’ve wanted._

The subconscious desire finally revealed itself. Kanon indeed wanted Schneizel to attack his lips, pull him closer by hips and lock him in a strong grip. He had been unconsciously yearning for this. But it was only when it happened that Kanon knew what _it_ was. He had gotten hints, but they weren’t enough. The small seconds that seemed to be a lifetime in Kanon’s head in which his and Schneizel’s eyes were locked together; the way his heart fluttered every time their fingers touched; how he yearned to be by Schneizel’s side, even when there was no work to be done. They weren’t enough to speak for his desires, simply because his desires went much, _much_ farther than that.

And it appears that Schneizel’s own desires were even farther, because it wasn’t long before things progressed, and soon enough Kanon found the bed under him and Schneizel over him. Kanon wrapped his arms around Schneizel’s neck tightly; something told him that if he didn’t hold on as tightly as he could, everything will slip away. Schneizel kissed him hard, he kissed back harder. They didn’t bother to detach their lips, even as they struggled to get out of their clothes when the heat became too much to tolerate. They hastily undressed each other, even though they had all the time in the world.

They were practically in their own world, and it was their own because they were free to do whatever they wanted.

And they did do everything they wanted.

Perhaps even more.

All Kanon did as Schneizel took him was shut his eyes and empty his head. He sent thought after thought away. He couldn’t let himself think at a time like that. The only thing on his mind was _hold on._ _Don’t let this slip away. You’ve waited so long, too long for this, and if it leaves it might never return._

It didn’t take long for Kanon’s feeling for Schneizel to blossom. Long before he’d started working for Schneizel, Kanon heard an abundance of words about how dashing the second prince was. Still, it didn’t prepare him for when he first met the prince, when he affirmed that everything he heard was indeed correct. Schneizel was the personification of perfection. His blond hair fell on his face like sunlight falling on land. His lilac eyes were like a shooting star flying across the sky; awfully bright, too tempting not to look at. Kanon always knew that all people, with no exceptions, harboured flaws, even if they tried to hide them. But he had doubts after he met Schneizel. But that didn’t seem out of place; for someone to be this perfect, they just _can’t_ be anything remotely human, they have to be some sort of magical creature, and Schneizel is indeed magical, in more ways than one.

Even though Kanon was awestruck by Schneizel’s beauty, it was the prince’s looks among several other things that captivated him. Like how Schneizel made one wise decision after another that ended up in Britannia’s victory when fighting an Area, the way he treated his brothers and sisters. Kanon has lost count of just how many things he admires about his prince.

How long it took for Kanon to _realise_ he was in love with Schneizel, though, was a completely different thing. Kanon’s memory of the development of his feelings is a bit hazy; it’s like, one day he was totally satisfied with being nothing more than an assistant, and the next day he had his heart set on being _more_ than a mere assistant. He wanted to be more than Schneizel’s aide because Schneizel was more than his prince. It was as simple as that.

But there was one moment, still crystal clear in Kanon’s mind, in which he felt the sentiments that had been buried deep inside him rise to the surface. The sky was bright and clear, and the gentle wind was contributing to the serenity of the weather. Kanon felt like the outdoors was _inviting_ him outside, and he found himself walking around one of the palace’s gardens. He’d been there several times, but he was taken aback at its beauty nonetheless. The only difference was that this one time, he felt himself inexplicably drawn to a particular bush, decorated with lilac flowers. He found himself mesmerised by it, even though he was sure he’d passed by it more than once or twice, sparing it nothing but a second of his time. He’d always found the vivid red roses and bright blue flowers more worthy of his attention. In fact, the lilac petals, despite their unique colour, seemed almost bland compared to the other flowers in the garden. Kanon didn’t know why he was walking towards that bush, why he felt his heart strongly thud against his ribs when he neared it.

He skimmed his fingers over the smooth, delicate petals. The touch felt oddly pleasant, not at all like the other flowers. It was the sudden springing of a foreign emotion that made Kanon realise how much he adores the lilac colour. It harboured speciality to him, and took him a moment to remember the reason behind so.

Kanon was always enchanted by Schneizel’s eyes. The way those lilacs fluctuated from warm and loving to cold and calculating fascinated him. And, of course, there were these moments where Schneizel’s eyes would numb Kanon’s entire body. It was a feeling he hadn’t completely grasped the meaning of yet but enjoyed nonetheless.

Truly, it only took a _look_ from Schneizel to make Kanon feel that way...

Kanon shifts in partial unease. For a split second he worries that he has accidentally woken Schneizel up but the prince’s breaths are still neutral and steady against his neck. Kanon hesitantly puts a hand to Schneizel’s chest, feeling it slowly rise and fall against his fingers. He also feels the prince’s monotone heartbeat. Kanon is addicted to the rhythm of Schneizel’s heart. It was like a confirmation, something that assured him that he is not living a dream.

It was reality.

A wonderful reality.

And something told Kanon that if he questions it too much, it will fade away. That’s why, with a soft sigh, he empties his head from all thoughts and buries himself into Schneizel’s arms. He doesn’t know whether he imagined it or not, but he feels Schneizel’s arms tighten around him.

**Author's Note:**

> Well of course I sandwiched an angsty shot between two fluffy shots. Wouldn't be writing for Code Geass if I'm not adding angst!
> 
> I hope this work, despite being short, didn't disappoint. Hopefully one day I'll be able to write a full story rather than oneshots for this ship. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
